


Timing, Jeremy, Timing

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jeremy Is Bad At Timing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: Anonymous said:Can I request a fic taking place right after Friday's episode? Where Jeremy and Wynonna are somehow alone (maybe while she's in labor and he's checking on her vitals) and he mentions being with Dolls as he was dying. Wynonna still gets freaked out even though SHE JUST SAW HIM two minutes ago. And of course, Jeremy lets it slip that her name was the last thing he said.





	Timing, Jeremy, Timing

“Thanks for picking me up,” Wynonna says sheepishly from the back seat of the cruiser, poking her fingers idly through the grate.  “You two, um, have any idea why I woke up in a field?  Because I’m, like, sober as a judge.”  She pauses thoughtfully.  “I actually have never met a sober judge.”

Waverly gives her an odd look before muttering, “Moving on.  The Iron Witch may have made a wish to the Marzanoik that you never existed, so I guess it just…”

“Let me take a nap where bugs could get into my—” Wynonna stops as another wave of pain— _maybe it’s not a contraction, maybe I just have wicked bad cramps_ , she thinks, tries to believe it—hits her.  She clears her throat and manages through it, “I guess there are worse things.  Everyone okay?”

She watches the two of them share a look.  “Yeah, we’re good,” Nicole says with one of those ooey-gooey smiles.

“Eyes on the road, Officer,” she chides, rubbing her belly. 

Her eyes flit between the two of them, but neither seems to have noticed, so she thinks she’s probably in the clear.  Leaning back against the headrest, she wonders what the world was like without her.  For a moment, she thinks about asking—but then she doesn’t think she’d like the answer much.  Except for the murmurs from the radio, the ride back to the station is silent.  She’d told Waves on the phone about the seal, remembers her distraught voice _Oh, Wynonna, this is all my fault_ , her own assurance that no, this would have happened eventually, either on her terms or theirs, this was the endgame falling out clumsily and out of order.  When they get to the station, she can’t get the door open and huffs in frustration.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Nicole gasps, leaping out to yank her door open.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles as she heaves her way out and up.  It’s fine until another contraction— _no more pretending, babe—_ hits her.  Without thinking, she snags Nicole’s hand with a low, “Holy abdominal pain…”

“Holy shit,” she whispers.  “Holy _shit_ , Wynonna, are you—”

“Sh!” she hisses, straightening and looking over her shoulder to see her sister’s door open.  “Shut up, shut up!”  She looks into her wide, dark eyes and says, “Say nothing.”

“Um, guys?” Waverly pipes from the other side of the car, “What’s going on?”

Even as she’s opening her mouth to answer _nothing_ , Nicole blurts, “Wynonna’s in labor.”

“God _damn_ it, Haught, are you serious?” she demands.  “It’s fine, I think it was just bad chili dogs.  Dolls is right, I need to stop eating garbage.”  She watches her eyebrow tick upward in disbelief.  “We’ll… just have to kill Clootie quickly.”

“Yep, that’s gonna work,” Nicole mumbles.

“What’s that?” Wynonna shoots back, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Giving a satisfied huff, she nods and stomps off toward the front doors as she rubs her lower back.  She pushes the door open, hears Waves catch it behind her, and follow her with a quick, “Are we really not gonna address this?”

“That was the idea,” she replies easily.  “I’ve heard the whole thing lasts, like, a day, anyway, so we’re cool.  Just get him in the ground before the kid falls out, and we’re solid.”

Her lips purse as Wynonna shoves into their conference room where Dolls and Doc are shaking hands, looking embarrassed (Jeremy looks elated, and she’s just confused).  There’s a moment when she wants to say something, something smart and hilarious and inappropriate enough to make Dolls give her that _look_ , but he’s in her space in a moment and got her wrapped up in his arms, so tight she can barely breathe.  For a while, she forgets there’s anyone else there, can only cling to him as he chokes a sob into her hair.  When he pulls back, he presses his forehead to hers and takes a shuddering breath and whispers something that might be _you’re here_ or _I’m here_ or just _here_.  Somewhere, someone clears their throat, and he jerks away but only far enough not to actively be touching her anymore.  She squashes the urge to nudge back into him and imagines how satisfying it’s gonna be to take out those bitches and their demon husband.

“The third seal was broken,” she says without preamble.  “Which is cool, bec—”

“Also, Wynonna’s in labor,” Waverly interrupts with a sharp look.  “Which is _sort of_ the kinda thing we gotta know when going into a fight.”

“Traitor!” she gasps.  “I’m surrounded by narcs.”

“Hey,” Dolls says altogether too softly for her to trust, gentle hand on her elbow.  “Maybe you should let Jeremy check you out.”

“Have Jeremy what now?” Jeremy demands, looking alarmed.  “I cannot stress how bad an idea that is—my understanding of the whole labor process is theoretical at best—isn’t there a doctor you can kidnap?”

“Relax, just… check her vitals,” he responds easily.

“That does not encourage confidence,” she frowns pointedly.  “No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” he mutters with a quick nod.

“My wording may not have been particularly clear, but that was actually an order,” Dolls says as he steers her to his office.  “You’re still gonna save the world, let’s just make sure you’re not, like, also having a heart attack.”

“I promise I’m not having a heart attack,” she whispers as she lets him push her into his chair, twisting her lips at Jeremy.  Given that she’s more likely to get nothing but obstinate silence and his broad shoulders blocking the door if she tries to escape, she shrugs out of her jacket and says, “Well, let’s get on with it.”  Arms crossed, Dolls plants himself on the edge of his desk and that really only makes the kid—she should stop calling him a kid, he’s probably, like, actually 30—fumble with the blood pressure cuff.  “Hey,” she says, turning to Dolls.  “You’re hovering.”

“Hovering,” he repeats, unamused.

“Yeah, hovering,” she smiles.  “How’s he supposed to get an accurate heartrate when you’re here being all…” she trails off and gestures at all of him.

Rolling his eyes, he pushes up and skirts the desk.  “I’ll wait outside, then.”

“Better?” she asks after the door closes.

“What?” Jeremy looks up.  “Oh, yeah, much—I mean, not that I blame him.  He’s probably still all shaken up from the—the dying.  You know,” he explains hurriedly, finally getting the cuff on right.

“The _dying_?” she demands, heart jumping into her throat.  “He—did he— _what?”_

“In the—only in the other timeline, it didn’t really happen,” he says in the kind of offhand way you’d talk about burning dinner not _Dolls goddamn dying what the shit?_   “He remembered you right at the end—this seems really high.”  He frowns at his watch, fingers pressed to her wrist.

“You think?”

\--

Once the plan is laid out, the real thing is to get everything together.  Waves and Nicole leave for the homestead, Doc for Shorty’s, Jeremy for some hidey-hole he’s found chock full of supernatural goodies abandoned or let loose by Black Badge.  Before he can go, Wynonna catches Dolls’ elbow and whispers, “Hey, can we, like, talk for a second?”

His brow furrows but it clears quickly as he nods.  “Yeah, what’s up?”

“My blood pressure, apparently,” she smiles dryly.  “Did you—um, did you die?”

Something about the way his eyes dart away from her before he speaks seems almost guilty.  “Yeah, I—I died, but only a little,” he says, lips curling slowly.  She watches her hands reach out to splay on his chest.  “It wasn’t _real_ , Wynonna.  I’m right here, in the right timeline or universe or whatever.”

Frowning, her face heats as she shakes her head and pulls him closer because she doesn’t think it wasn’t real _at all_ —there was a version of him that died and the thought alone makes her feel cold.  His arms fold around her, gently now, as she presses her face into his neck.  “You’re not allowed to die in any more universes, okay?” she whispers.  “I hope it was a good one, because further deaths are forbidden.  Not happening.”

“Alright, noted,” he snorts.  “Any more requests?”

“Could you have this baby for me?” she groans, hunching a little as another contraction rears its ugly head.

“Cannot do that.”

“Damn,” she hisses.  Pulling back, she cups his jaw and searches his face and doesn’t know how to ask what she wants to know.  “I just—in case we all die horribly…” she stops and takes a deep breath.  “In case this doesn’t go like we planned—are we good?”

He laughs, low and warm.  “We’re good,” he whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Because she apparently just wants to suffer at this point, she asks, “Did it hurt?”

“It…” he frowns distantly.  “It did at first.  Then it was cold.  Then it was warm.”  Her eyes fall and he dips his head to catch her gaze again.  “Then I had to apologize to Doc for shooting him.”  He wrinkles his nose as she chokes something like a laugh.

In the end, she’s not sure who moves first, all she knows is his lips are on hers, hard and urgent and she tries to pack everything she can’t bring herself to say into that kiss because, _shit_ , what if something happens?  She kisses him until her lungs start to burn, eyes prickling, and she has to pull back to breathe but doesn’t let him go, panting into his mouth as she feels his fingers carding through her hair.  At least, she realizes dumbly, he’s breathing just as heavily.  She can’t help the well of fear growing in the pit of her gut—she’s not a stranger to fear, but this is different.  This isn’t Bobo, or a bear, or a serial killer—this is a pissed off demon with a god complex, and she’s gonna drop a kid in a couple hours, and she just—she can’t _lose_ anyone else.  He mumbles something too low for her to hear and presses too-rough little kisses to her cheeks and forehead and closed eyes—she snorts when he stops at the tip of her nose.

“You’re a dork,” she mumbles.

“Well…” he smiles, so bright and sweet she almost forgets the world’s about to go to shit.

Their foreheads bump together and she sighs.  “So, after all this is over…” she pulls back enough to look in his eyes.  “You wanna take me to dinner?”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and noses at her hair before saying, “Yeah.  Yeah, it’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to that anon for really speaking to my soul with this one tbh
> 
> Shoutout to y'all for reading!!!
> 
> Come by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I have never stopped talking about this show.


End file.
